Page 1

CHAPTER 1

Classic rock blares over the speakers so loud that I almost miss the explosion coming from my hood. In fact, I would have, if not for the smoke that immediately began to seep in front of my windshield in a cloud so thick that I could no longer see the moon shining in the night sky.

“Damn it!” I gently lay on the brakes, pulling over and bringing my car to a slow stop in the ditch. All the while, more smoke continues to stream from the hood. “Shit, shit, shit!”

This is what I get for deciding to drive eight hours back home in the middle of the night. On a full moon, because of course it’s a full moon. That’s when things like to get wild – ask any teacher, and they’ll tell you, kids turn into a menace on the full moon.

I put the car in park and quickly turn off my engine, but the smoke continues to rise. The screen of my phone lights up as I grab it from the center console, the time shining up at me like a beacon. Three in the morning. The witching hour.

This drive was a disaster waiting to happen.

After a trip up to my parents', I couldn’t wait to get back home. It’s not that I didn’t love them, but they’re a little…much. People who call me eccentric don’t know that my parents are ten times worse. I love them for it, but usually in small doses.

I’m only thirty minutes from Maple Lane Falls, and a part of me wants to risk continuing the drive. It’s a straight shot on the highway, and there are no cars out, but if I were to ruin my beloved car any more than I somehow already have…I wouldn’t survive. Betsy here, my cherry red Mustang, has been with me since my sophomore year of high school. She’s seen me through every messy breakup and heart-aching friendship that’s left me a hermit in my own hometown.

I step out of the car, grimacing at the smell of the smoke still wafting from my hood. Maybe I can see what the problem is. I don’t want to call Maple Auto if it’s something simple. Not when he works there.

Popping the hood only seems to increase the smoke and the smell. I wave my hand around and turn on the flashlight on my phone, pointing it down to where the smoke pours out from my engine.

This…is a little more than what my dad taught me ten years ago. Okay, so maybe this isn’t a case of needing to change my spark plugs.

Sighing, I pat Betsy’s front bumper and pull up the number to Maple Lane Falls’ only mechanic shop. If I remember correctly, they have someone on call for tow emergencies like this. “Don’t worry, girl, I’ll get you fixed up.”

The ringing is loud in the dead of the night, but it only rings for a moment before a robotic voice comes over the speaker telling me the shop is closed. It directs me to press one for an emergency tow, and the phone begins ringing again after I follow the prompt.

The line connects with a click, followed by a gruff voice. “Hello?”

Shit. I know that voice.

Miles Cole.

“You know what? Never mind, I’ll walk.”

I move the phone from my ear, my finger already inching toward the end button, when my name comes through the speakers. “Sonnet?”

My heart stutters in my chest at the sound of my name falling from his lips. As far as I know, it’s the first time he’s spoken it in years - and damn if it doesn’t sound just as perfect as it used to.

“Um, yes, hi. I’ve got this. Sorry for waking you up, Miles.” My hand flies over my mouth, and my eyes practically roll to the back of my head from embarrassment. Why confirm who it is? Why say his name?

Because I’m a masochistic idiot.

I hear movement in the background before his voice sounds again, this time a little less rough as he begins to fully wake up. “Why are you calling the emergency line, Sonnet?”

Always to the point with the voice of an asshole. It makes my blood boil. “Why the hell do you think, Miles? I’m having a fucking emergency.”

The chuckle he gives me sends shivers straight down my spine. “Do you need a tow?”

I can’t help the laugh that spills from my lips, filled with sarcasm to the point where he no doubt can taste it even over the phone. “Yes, I need a tow. I was driving back from my parents, and boom - Betsy decided to have a heart attack right here on the main highway!”

More movement sounds from the other end of the phone as I finish my rant.

“Where are you?”

I look around, the dark highway giving nothing away as to where I could be. “Um…somewhere on Route 57. Like thirty minutes out. Jesus, Miles, you know I’m not good with directions.”

I mentally slap myself as I say it. In a five-minute conversation, I’m falling into the same banter with him that we had in high school. Seven years of space, and it doesn’t feel like an inch now that we’re speaking again. This isn’t good for my health.

“Send me your location, Sonnet. You still have my number? I haven’t changed it.” I hear a truck crank up in the background.